“I tried and I tried”

January 22, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Professional Development, Reflections, Speech Language Pathology, Things Kids Say, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: children, Determination, Disabilities, inspiration, Persistance, speech therapy, speech-language-pathology, Success, Tenacity, The Daily Post, Things Kids Say, Writing 2 Comments

Everything is harder for this little one.

Her body doesn’t quite know how to calm itself. Her hands don’t always know the extent of their reach. She trips. She falls. She bumps into. She upsets the cup, the plate, the markers on the desk. It takes her longer to climb up a flight of stairs. She needs help tackling them going down. Her mouth doesn’t quite make sounds as easily as others’ can: words come out jumbled, not always the right sounds or meaning, often in a mismatched grammar and word order. Food gets messy. Swallowing’s tricky. She gags. She coughs.

But she tries.

Oh, boy, she tries.

And tries.

She’s a perfectionist, too.

Indomitable.

Determination personified.

Everything requires repetition. Still she tries again. Again. Again. She shakes her head at any suggestion she accept the unperfected.

“I do more time,” she insists, sometimes in tears but with no less conviction.

And she does. ‘More time’ and time again and then again and then some.

And slowly, sometimes out of the mist of helpless frustration and gritted teeth and hugs and endless patience — she succeeds.

A circle that closes. A list of items in a category. An idea expressed. A multisyllabic word with no sounds missing. A full sentence with all words in attendance. A coat pulled on without assistance. A triangle traced. A tower of blocks. A pattern of beads. A banana that peels without the insides getting mashed. A sip of apple juice from an unaided cup, no spill, no cough.

“I tried and I tried,” she beams. Each time anew. Sometimes with tears still glistening from the last attempt that didn’t quite get up to her own standards. Each time there’s fire in her eyes.

“I told you I can!”

Indeed you had.

Indeed you can.

Hats off, little one.

Every. Single. Time.

drseuss-determination

For The Daily Post

Un-Hide

January 20, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Reflections, Writing Tags: advice, being yourself, conformity, encouragement, Exposure, Hiding, inspiration, light, Poetry, The Daily Post 4 Comments

Photo Credit: O.A.

You do not need to hide

Your pain

Your worry.

You do not need to stash away

The dreams

The stories.

You do not need to hold your tongue

Pretend away your feelings

Ignore what you already know,

Just to be

Someone you are not

For me

For show

For others.

You do not need to wrap parts of yourself

In secrecy

Or silence.

It is okay.

Un-hide.

I understand.

Even if some do not know, and

May need more time,

To see

How you’re the light

Within the deepest darkness.

For The Daily Post

Overworked, Underplayed

January 19, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Reflections, Speech Language Pathology, Writing Tags: children, life, Overworked, parenting, play, Priorities, Schedule, speech therapy, Stress, Work 4 Comments

overscheduled

The mom consulted her phone’s calendar.

“She has soccer on Mondays right after school, then she has a pre-reading tutor. Tuesday she has piano after school but I can rush her to you if you have time for a session at 5:30 or so? She’ll be a little tired and maybe hungry but I can give her dinner in the car on the way here or something. Oh, actually, next month she’ll start rehearsals for her recital. Thursdays are really difficult because she has gymnastics and then they have rehearsal training, so she won’t be able to do anything before 6pm. Maybe that’s a bit too late? Fridays she has another pre-reading class. I really don’t want her falling behind. Maybe I can bring her to you after … though she has some playdates scheduled next month. Saturday she does ice-skating. …” Looked up. Sighed, “Do you work Sundays?”

The little girl is not yet five.

overscheduled-300x225

For The Daily Post

It’s Pretty To ME!

January 18, 2017January 18, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Aesthetic, children, fashion, individuality, parenting, self-expression, The Daily Post 10 Comments

She wanted three pig tails. One in a braid. On that side.

She chose a pink and burgundy polka dot ankle sock for one foot; a striped brown and green crew sock for the other.

She pulled on sparkly silver leggings and an oversized, over-loved tan shirt from her brother’s cast offs. Cracked number 4 on the back. Dinosaur eating a basketball on the front.

Added several rows of plastic New Orleans beads, a pasta necklace, an Elsa pendant, and an ivory fuzzy crop shrug “to not be cold.”

Blue loafers.

A bracelet.

Unfolded that crew sock.

Twirled in front of the mirror.

Caught her mother’s horrified look in the reflection. Mom in solid pastels and tidy gold necklace, pressed slacks blending into same-colored oxfords.

“What!?” She placed one hand in protestation on an expertly side-jutted hip. “It’s pretty to ME!”

Image from: Lovethispic.com

For The Daily Post

Please Be There

January 17, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Meditations Tags: Awareness, inspiration, Invitation, life, Mindfullness, Poetry, The Daily Post 7 Comments

Photo Credit: A.A.

Please be there

For the hope

For the plans.

Please be there

For the trials and the errors

The triumphs

The sorrows

The fumbles

The sighs.

Please be there

For the small things

The bigger,

Stay dialed in

To moments long gone,

To those still to come.

Please be there

In awareness, in person,

Pay full mind

To this life.

To your life’s

Invitation.

You are one of a kind.

For The Daily Post

The Wilds of Manhattan

January 16, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Writing Tags: Hawk, MLK Day 2017, New York City, Sanctuary, Unexpected, Upper West Side, Urban hens, Wounded birds 3 Comments

Life can be strange in the wilds of Manhattan.

More specifically, on the sidewalk of 87th Street off Broadway.

I found a wounded Cooper’s hawk on the curb this morning, breathing but motionless with right wing splayed and tail half spread.

Two men were already there, holding phones out and trying to figure out who to call. We tried to think which veterinary practice was the closest or whether to call the city hotline at 311.

Luck (or serendipity) has it that there is actually a Wild Bird Fund clinic just a few blocks away. One man tried calling them and got the voicemail, so I said I’d take the bird there myself immediately.

A passerby stripped his coat off to donate his sweater to cover the bird. Not only talons and beak to worry about, but birds of prey can die from stress–it can help keep them calm to have them covered. The good man then ran to the closest store to bring a box to put the bird in. The hawk rose in alarm when one of the other men leaned close to take a photo of it, but it was too wounded or too in shock to move away.

We shushed and covered the bird, then placed it in the box, and I left with it for the clinic. The hawk lay quietly in the empty Avocado carton, resigned or hopefully knowing someplace that I was doing for it. I sent calm thoughts of healing its way, just in case. Intention matters.

As soon as I walked into the Wild Bird Fund, I was greeted by clucky hens of various colors, outfits, and dispositions (one white hen donned blue Band-Aid socks), a couple of ducks, and a curious seagull, all promenading on the clinic’s floor, pecking happily from a shared bowl. I felt transported and a little giddy. I had hens and ducks growing up, and I have a special connection to seagulls, especially curious ones …

The amazing staff attended to the poor hawk immediately. The bird was conscious but not very responsive and too timid. They checked for bleeding, administered IV ‘bird-Gatorade,’ and put it in a quiet cage on a heating pad (“Where is a warming blanket?”, “They’re all over the place. I think the Kestrel had it…”, “Yep, just took it from the Kestrel … he doesn’t needs it anymore.”).

First order of the day is to let it regroup. De-stress. Hopefully it will recover some before the bird rehabilitator comes in the afternoon and can take a more thorough look at it.

I said goodbye to a little red hen (sans apron but just as officious) who wove between everyone’s legs the whole time, to the seagull and the ducks, to the robin Annie, who seemed mighty glad to be behind the bars of a cage with a hawk one foot away, took the sweater to return to the good Samaritan, and left an island of wilderness and barnyard, feeling a bit surreal.

This is New York.

You really do not ever know what you’ll run into, or see.

Get well fast, little Cooper’s hawk!

Wounded Coopers’ Hawk, NYC Jan 16, 2017

Exquisitely You

January 15, 2017January 15, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Reflections, Writing Tags: Adolescents, being yourself, Celebrities, children, Exquisite, Media, parenting, peer-pressure, Society, The Daily Post, uniqueness 4 Comments

She wants to be just like her favorite celebrity.

She prances in front of the mirror, mimics facial expressions, pouts lips, struts, copies mannerism, makeup, tone, clothing style, way of speaking.

He wants to be just like his football idol.

He waddles his still small frame to mimic a quarterback. He frowns and he grunts. He copies mannerism, tone, clothing, way of speaking.

They want to be just like those who hold power.

They swagger. They pose. They pretend to be tough, put on apathetic faces. They copy mannerism, tone, clothing, way of speaking.

She forgets. He doesn’t know. Maybe they weren’t told.

Of the exquisite being they each are. Already.

Each unique.

Poised to be who they were meant to be.

One of a kind. On this earth. In this time.

Let us tell them, tell ourselves:

“Watch others for what is true, for what is right, what is kind,

Learn what you can,

But remember

You are.

You can be.

No one else can

Exquisitely you.”

You do you!

For The Daily Post

What we see; why we don’t

January 14, 2017January 14, 2017Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Bullying, child abuse, compassion, Current events, Domestic Violence, empathy, healing, hope, Shame, Taboo, The Daily Post, Trauma, Unseen Leave a comment

Photo Credit: A.M.

“How come they didn’t see it happening?”

“How could they let this happen?”

“How is it possible that it took place and no one knew?”

“How can they say they didn’t see?”

“Can people really be this blind?”

“Don’t they care?”

“Don’t they see?”

Maybe they didn’t. The improbable is possible. People can be that blind. Even when they care, they may not see.

It is easy to see what one wants, what’s congruent, what matches assumptions or views or held beliefs. It is easy to recognize what one had learned already, to follow perceptions already accepted, ways familiar … easier to understand words that resonate with what does not burden with new challenges or calls for reassessment or brings up shame.

Shame. People don’t like to see what brings up shame.

The very whiff of it can bring on denial. Projection. Deflection. Blame of others. Avoidance. Cold shoulder. Dismissal. Refusal. Minimization of the pain of others to avoid feeling one has done wrong, seen wrong, is wrong.

Shame tugs along with hate and violence, in words or action or both. Inflicting pain on others might get justified or explained away … A way to keep downtrodden what one thinks should stay unnoticed, un-make-wave-able, quiet, under rugs, buried. Unseen.

It takes time, heart, and bravery to crack and drain shame.

It is easier to blame. To point fingers. To make “an other” to scapegoat or distance from. To claim misfortune due to one’s abilities, affiliation, religion, political leanings, nationality, age, gender, race, vocation, location, possessions or lack thereof.

To yell “false claims”, “exaggeration”, “attention seeking” or the newest term: “fake news.”

Shaming is a weapon of pseudo self-preservation for those who need to ensure the pain of another remains unseen and one’s own comfort can stand unprovoked.

Shame silences:

Unspoken words of wounded children

Pleas of disrespected women

The worlds of the oppressed, belittled, turned against them.

The desperate, the lost … unanswered. Unaccepted. Unacceptable.

Unseen.

It does not need to so remain.

To face what was already there but eyes were closed to, is the first step to unmaking shame. To healing pain.

May we find ways to see. May we take heart to act. May we become for others what we need or needed them to see in us, to do for us, to hold with gentleness.

May the unseen become the visible.

May shame be drained.

each other